


Moloch von Zinzer and the Terror in the Red Cathedral

by Sturzkampf



Series: The Trials of Moloch von Zinzer [7]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted Elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6555580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>In the heart of the Red Cathedral, Moloch von Zinzer faces his most terrifying ordeal yet! This time, there can be no escape!</em><br/>or<br/><em>A pointless, plotless piece of complete fluff.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Moloch von Zinzer and the Terror in the Red Cathedral

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly a little gross in places. A first version was published on the Jägerkin Forum.

It is something you always know will happen to you one day, but it is something you always put to the back of your mind, never think about, always deny. Now, in the heart of the Red Cathedral of Mechanicsburg it was about to happen to Moloch von Zinzer and there was nothing he could do to save himself. Over the years he had pulled through some very dangerous, frightening and downright insane situations, but today he knew there could be no escape. This was it. What made it worse was he had to sit there, in the very front pew of the cathedral with an unobstructed view of the unconventional carvings around the altar, and wait quietly for the inevitable. At least in most of his previous emergencies he had been able to run around or scream very loudly, usually both. Even if this didn’t achieve all that much, at least it gave the illusion that he was actually doing something and maybe he might escape after all. Screaming in terror can be remarkably therapeutic.

Then they had made him meet his fate wearing an absurd military uniform, a Mechanicsburg tailor’s idea of a Master Engineer in the army of Duke D’Omas. He had been quite adamant that he was _not_ going to wear the official ‘Chief Minion’s Costume’, no matter what they were planning to do to him. The stiff and slightly ridiculous new clothing did nothing for his nerves or his comfort, although in fact it made him look rather dashing. At least he was wearing his flame-resistant long combinations, made by the specialist family of tailors in Mechanicsburg who had served the Heterodyne for generations. For some reason, either through genetics or tampering by one of the Old Masters, all the tailors in the family where only three feet tall. Nevertheless, their fire-proof clothing had saved Moloch’s life on more than one occasion. Now, he never went out without his Gnomex underwear.

Sitting beside him, Professor Mittelmind, here for moral support at such a difficult time, gave him what was probably meant to be a reassuring grin, but was somehow more disconcerting than a snarl. In fact all of Moloch’s companions, from Lady Heterodyne herself down to the most junior minion, were packed into the Cathedral for the occasion. Even Baron Gilgamesh Wulfenbach and King Tarvek I had come, the two sitting on either side of Agatha and eyeing each other like a pair of tom cats. Somehow, having all these people present to watch made things worse.

The trumpets struck up [some grand ceremonial music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuHtLxxuJsY). Dr Yglyn stepped forward and smiled at Moloch with his second-best ceremonial teeth. This is it, thought von Zinzer. He glanced over his shoulder and looked down the aisle. At the far end, just entering through the great doors of the Cathedral, surrounded by attendants, strode the white-shrouded figure who was coming for him. With a wildly beating heart and trembling knees, Moloch von Zinzer stood up and walked to the High Altar of the Heterodynes. The time had come for him to get married.

\---------------*

Now Professor Mittelmind is, on the whole, a good man. Well, perhaps not ‘good’ in the literal sense; at least I must admit that on occasion the funding applications for his cutting edge social science research do have problems getting approval from the ethics committee. And yes alright it is debatable whether he can actually be called a ‘man’ as he has after all been dead for several years now. But what I mean to say is that he is, on the whole not a malicious entity, who is generally kind to his friends, always stands his round and has never towed a caravan. I would trust him with my life, although not perhaps my internal organs. He is always good enough to read through my little stories before I post them, which is very useful because he is a stickler for correct grammar. He’s always lecturing on me on the correct use of ‘that’ or ‘which’, when it is correct to use ‘Mwhahahahaha’ or ‘Bwhahahahahaha’ and the punctuation rules governing multiple exclamation marks. These are important questions that come up all the time when you waste as much of your time as I do writing about Sparks. To get back to my original point, despite his many admirable attributes, he was not perhaps the best person Moloch could have chosen as his best man.

 “Of course, you do realise the implications of marrying a wolf?” the Professor whispered to Moloch as they waited at the altar. “If you are in the slightest way attracted to another woman while you are in her presence she will be able to smell it immediately. And of course the scent of any woman who so much as touches you will be all over you for a week. Then don’t forget that your wife can run considerably faster than you, is capable for tracking you relentlessly for days and can tear out your throat with a single bite…”

“You’re not helping!” hissed Moloch.

“Oh, sorry,” said the Professor, who actually thought he was. “If it makes you feel any better, it could be a lot worse.”

“ _How_?!”

“You could be about to marry Fraulein Snaug.”

\------------*

Dr Vapnoople had been brought down from Castle Wulfenbach for the occasion, so that Florence could walk up the aisle on her father’s arm. It had taken considerable patience to persuade him to change out of his usual Janitor’s overalls into a wedding suit and there had been an upsetting scene when they wouldn’t let him take his mop, but in the end they got him to the Church on time. After all that had been done to him Florence was worried that he might not understand what was going on, but even if he was not the dynamic and wonderful alpha male Spark that she remembered from her puppy-hood, he still knew who she was and even remembered her name among all the hundreds of her kin, of whom she was the only survivor.

Florence looked radiant in her wedding dress, designed by the best couturier in Mechanicsburg. While our fair city is not generally regarded as the centre of cutting edge fashion, we do have a certain unique style. The Dressmaker to the Heterodyne believes that a bride simply isn’t dressed unless her gown includes working cogwheels, at least 6 functional dials, an illuminated display panel and a discreet tool belt, while of course no trousseau is complete without a pair of elaborate bridal goggles. Fortunately it’s a style that suits Florence, but when she went to the shop to choose a dress she did have some trouble finding one that fitted. Apart from the fact that modifications would obviously be necessary to accommodate her tail, which was going to be doing a lot of wagging over the course of the day, the first few she tried on were all far too large.

“Are you sure this is a size twelve?” she had asked, indicating the large amounts of extra fabric.

“Oh yes Madame,” the dressmaker had assured her, “that is quite definitely a twelve. You see, Lady Heterodyne is a twelve.”

“Is she? I would have thought she was at least a…”

“No Madame,” interrupted the dressmaker firmly, fixing Florence with a meaningful look. “Lady Heterodyne is _most definitely a twelve_.”

“Oh, right. Yes of course!” exclaimed Florence. “You know, I do believe I have lost a little weight since I’ve come to Mechanicsburg! Perhaps I could try a size ten.” She performed some mental calculations. “Or perhaps even a size eight.”

\---------------------*

The bridal procession reached the altar, where Moloch, the Professor and Dr Yglyn waited. Florence was amused to smell the fear radiating off her husband-to-be like a wounded animal. She struggled to banish the image from her mind. It wasn’t the done thing to start drooling during the marriage vows. He gave her a weak smile. Then, in accordance with tradition, she turned to her father, who lifted her bridal goggles and formerly handed her over to her new husband.

The ceremony itself was surprisingly standard, apart from the additional vow about trembling and obeying the Heterodyne. Florence had insisted that the part about obeying her husband be left in the ceremony. Many modern independently-minded young women ask for this particular vow to be removed, but in this case Florence thought it was appropriate to leave it in. However, when Dr Yglyn had joked during the pre-ceremony planning that perhaps she should take a vow to be a Good Dog he came nearer to having his jugular vein torn out than he ever realised.

All too soon, Moloch and Florence were exchanging rings (boring, non-functional gold bands at the insistence of the bridegroom) and Dr Yglyn was draping the traditional electrical ribbon cable around their clasped hands as he solemnly declared them husband and wife.

\----------------*

The trumpets and drums struck up [more triumphal music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1heHf8e_fP4) to accompany Mr and Mrs von Zinzer as they walked back down the aisle. Florence looked to left and right, with the smug possessive smile of brides throughout the multiverse, acknowledging the friendly waves and nods from her friends who packed the pews. This was an important moment for her; finally she knew that she had been accepted into the pack that was Mechanicsburg. She was a little flattered – and perhaps a little perturbed – to see that the Jägers, including the generals, had all chosen the ‘friends of the bride’ side of the aisle in which to sit. There were snuffles, occasional broken-hearted sobs and much brandishing of large white handkerchiefs from within the monstrous ranks. And at the back, like an enormous dark wall made of fur, were representatives of her ursine brothers and sisters, the army of bears created by Dr Vapnoople. They had a certain history with the Wulfenbach Empire and were keeping a low profile. This was not the day to revisit old grudges.

Florence deliberately did not look towards the one side chapel that had been curtained off for the wedding ceremony. Inside sat the Mechanical Cleric, shrouded beneath a tarpaulin, shut-down and safety interlocked until everything was all over. After her consultation with the clerical clank during the incident with the Barrier, Florence had made it perfectly clear that she wanted it to have absolutely nothing to do with the happiest day of her life, no matter what assurances Lady Heterodyne had given her that V2.3 of the spiritual advice algorithms worked much better.

As the bridal procession walked out through the Cathedral entrance beneath the arch of spanners held aloft by the minions of Mechanicsburg, the congregation shuffled out behind them.

“There’s going to be a lot of broken hearts among the minions after this I’m afraid,” remarked Professor Messalama to Theopholous DuMedd, as with some difficulty he manoeuvred all his legs in the narrow gap between the pews.

“Tell me about it,” replied Theo. “Hexalina Snaug, Saana Tryggvassen and Squinaldo were all crying their eyes out during the service.”

“Yes, whatever it is that Moloch has got, he certainly … _Squinaldo_?!” He tripped on a hassock in his surprise and fell over in a tangle of twitching mechanical limbs.

“Why not?” Theo asked, as he helped the Professor back to his feet.

“Ah, right.”

\--------------*

Once the happy couple had been joined in holy(ish) matrimony, the City of Mechanicsburg began the serious business of celebration, although let’s face it, we never need much of an excuse to hold a party and anyway, the tourists love it and it’s a great way to separate them from their money. Not everyone joined in. Zeetha noticed [Krosp sitting on a wall](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/sketches.php?date=20070802) with his shoulders slumped, looking as unhappy as she could ever remember seeing him.

“Aren’t you happy for the couple?” she asked.

“No, not at all,” replied the Emperor of All Cats.

“Don’t be such an old cynic. I suppose you’re going to tell me that construct marriages never work or marrying the boss always ends badly. Next thing you’ll be saying you’ll give them six months.”

“No, I’ve never seen a couple so happy. If had to bet on anyone staying together, I’d be putting my money on them.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that they are happy; I mean really happy. They have something very precious that they don’t want to lose. Having something to lose makes them vulnerable. This is Mechanicsburg. There are lots of threats, both internal and external. Threats that will see their happiness and want to take it away, either because they can use it as a lever to get to Agatha or simply because spoiling things for other people is what they do. I’m really… worried for them.”

“Are you feeling alright? Since when have you ever worried about anyone other than yourself?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you. But you’re right. Even cats get sentimental at weddings.”

\----------------------*

Two more people with heavy hearts sat on a grotesque stone bench in Dagon Square watching the festivities.

“You know Violetta,” sighed Tarvek, “I have come to the conclusion that falling in love is a greatly over-rated experience.”

He leaned back on the bench and looked over to where Agatha and Gil, Florence and Moloch were having their wedding group daguerreotype taken. All four looked infused with joy, laughing in the bright sunshine. Gil had his arm around Agatha’s waist. Tarvek couldn’t remember ever seeing Lady Heterodyne look so happy.

“Right,” agreed the smoke knight. “Sorry her lot who loves too well. Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly. Sad are the sighs that own the spell, uttered by eyes that speak too plainly.”

 “But why are you wearing your smoke knight uniform? I thought Agatha had bought you a pretty dress and everything? You’ve always wanted to go to a nice party and do girly things.”

“Yeah, right, it’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. And now I finally get the chance to wear the pretty dress and go to a party and all that. And when do I get to wear it? At the marriage of the man I lo...” Violetta stopped in mid-sentence, realising she had said far more than she intended. “No way am I going to wear a pretty dress today,” she finished lamely. Tarvek was far too much of a weasel to miss the slip, but not so much of one that he would ever dream of using it to his advantage, at least not with Violetta, or at the very least, not immediately.

 “As I see it we have two options,” he mused. “First, Plan A. We sit here and bemoan our broken hearts, possibly weep at our misfortune, recite embarrassingly bad poetry, become twisted and embittered, cursing our successful rivals and taking pleasure every time the happy couple have a disagreement.”

“And possibly go over to the free bar and get blind drunk,” added Violetta, scowling at the reference to the bad poetry. She thought it was rather poignant. “So what’s plan B?”

“Let’s be happy because the people we love are happy.”

Violetta considered. “Plan B?” she suggested.

Tarvek nodded. “Plan B.” Together they got up and with the best smiles they could muster, walked over to congratulate the happy couple.

“I’m still not ruling out the ‘getting blind drunk’ part later on,” muttered Violetta.

\-----------------*

Once the wedding daguerreotypes were complete, it was time for Florence to throw her bouquet. The assembled bridesmaids, female constructs and minions jostled, ready to catch it. Several devices were produced to either grab the bouquet or stop anyone else getting it. Four teams of paramedics and the Professor Diaz Memorial Organ Reclamation Unit were poised, waiting for the aftermath.

Florence took a deep breath, whispered a silent prayer to the Gods of the Geldwald to limit the damage to manageable proportions and threw the bouquet. The crowd converged on the end of its trajectory with much digging of elbows and kicking of ankles. A moment before it descended to the scrum of grasping hands, claws, mechanical pincers, tractor beams and tentacles there was a sudden flash of brass. A small flying object shot horizontally in front of everyone and grabbed the flowers away from them all. The little clank flew across to where Agatha was sitting demurely away from the crowd and dropped the flowers in her lap. She gave a smug smile while the ladies glared at her in fury. Lady Heterodyne raised an imperious eyebrow and they all turned away, muttering. Sometimes it’s very satisfying to be The Heterodyne in the heart of your own lair.

Once that piece of excitement was over the married couple and all the important guests made their way up the Causeway to Castle Heterodyne for the wedding feast. Before they sat down to eat, Moloch and Florence greeted the guests as they filed into the banqueting hall and presented their wedding presents, not all of which were kitchen implements and not all of which were Spark-created menaces to life-and-limb. Doctor Benjamin Rat, one of the top medics at the New Great Hospital, gave them a caddy of something called Nettlefrisk Tea, although they only found out what it was after they tried it for breakfast one morning and then decided, for the first and only time in their lives, to skip work for the rest of the day.

Florence opened their wedding present from Agatha. Inside was a small dog collar. Mr and Mrs von Zinzer looked at the Heterodyne in puzzlement. Agatha blushed, ever so slightly.

“It’s for… it’s for a puppy,” she explained, hesitantly. She came a bit closer and lowered his voice. “Look, I’ve got hold of Dr Vapnoople’s research notes from Gil. They were still on Castle Wulfenbach. I’m pretty sure that, if you want, I can …er… arrange things, when the time comes, that is if you decide that you want…”

“ _Puppies_?!” Moloch sounded as though he was going into shock. Even by Mechanicsburg standards, the day was getting more and more bizarre.  
  
“That would be wonderful!” Florence exclaimed, her tail wagging furiously as she hugged Agatha, who politely didn’t mention the drool running down her back of her best dress.

“As far as I can tell, any children will start off looking like normal puppies, but with human intelligence, and then as they grow they’ll gradually change into something that looks more or less like their mother. When you’re ready make an appointment with my secretary to come up to Gravida Heterodyne’s medical lab and we’ll… sort things out.”

“Do I… er… need to be there too?” asked Moloch, blushing bright red.

“No, just your wife,” Agatha reassured him. “You can, ah, make your contribution later with Florence in private.”

“That’s a relief. So long as our children don’t end up looking like me.”

\--------------*

You know, now that we are on the subject of offspring…” said the Castle quietly in Agatha’s ear, as she moved past Moloch and Florence to take her place at the High Table.

“Oh don’t you start!” snapped Agatha.

“Only, your favourite paramour is here _and_ the first reserve and weddings are so romantic. I could prepare the boudoir of Neueshaus Heterodyne, you know, the one with all the picturesque pulsating…”

“No! I do _not_ want a baby! Vile disgusting creatures!”

“Now, now, remember it was you who insisted on a walkabout through the town to get to know the little people, against my advice I might add. You didn’t have to accept that baby to admire, although to be frank when a mother not only willingly hands her baby over to The Heterodyne but actually expects to get it back standards are definitely slipping. No-one made you hold it up above your head in admiration and I’m sure that young lady didn’t know that her daughter was about to experience a bout of explosive diarrhoea.”

Agatha shuddered at the memory. “I was washing my hair for a week!”

“Though you have to admit your silhouette in splatter marks on the whitewashed wall behind you was hilarious! And those little whimpering sounds you made were so adorable.”

“I wanted to scream, but I didn’t dare open my mouth!”

 “But as The Heterodyne you can get minions to do all the disgusting parts. You could design pretty hazmat suits for them and everything. And I can help bring up your children you know. It was one of the functions for which I was created. I love having the next generation running through my halls. Guiding them, teaching them, moulding them into true Heterodynes...”

“Hazmat suits?” Agatha’s voice took on a certain far away enthusiasm. “Yes! They could be pink! With little teddies on them! That change colour to indicate the nature of the biological hazard. And….” And then her brain caught up. “No! Absolutely not! You are not having anything to do with children, especially any of mine, until I’ve been able to realign your moral compass. That settles it. No babies today!”

\---------------*

Of course the biggest nightmare in any wedding is always the reception. Who do you invite and who do you not? And who sits where? If we invite _him_ then we have to invite _her_ or else she’ll be offended; we can’t sit _him_ on the same table as _him_ because they haven’t talked to each other since the Great Imploding Rhinoceros Disaster of ’97; and so on. In the end Agatha had had to use the entire processing power of the Castle’s cognitive engine for three full days to calculate all the permutations and provide the optimum solution.

The wedding feast was long and lavish, with many, many guests and many, many courses, including the inevitable savoury and sweet snails. The main course was beef, with prime steaks for those sitting at the high table.

“How would you like your steak, Mrs von Zinzer?” asked the waiter.

“Well done, please,” the new bride told him.

“Well done? Oh of course!” His training stifled his surprise and he moved down to the next guest at the high table.

“Well done?” asked her husband. “I thought you’d like it…”

“Rare? Practically raw? Of course I do. But that is such a cliché!”

\-----------------*

“I’m afraid there’s going to be an awful lot of work for the kitchen staff,” Gil remarked to one of the waitresses as she cleared away the plates from yet another course. “Someone is going to spend a lot of time with their arms in the sink to wash all these.” He gave a sly grin in the direction of Tarvek as he said it and made sure he caught Agatha’s eye, just to emphasise that he had started at the bottom of the heap, just like Agatha, while Tarvek, brought up as a member of the aristocracy, would never even think about the amount of work a banquet made for the servants, or even consider acknowledging that the servants actually existed. It was all part of the game he and Tarvek were still playing.

“Oh no sir,” the waitress replied, “So good of you to think of it, but of course we have a dishwasher in the main kitchen to take care of all the washing up. That caught Agatha, Gil and Tarvek’s attention.

“A dishwasher?” asked Tarvek carefully. “That wouldn’t be a creation of the Old Heterodynes by any chance would it?”

“Oh don’t worry sir, this is something new since Lady Heterodyne restored Mechanicsburg. You don’t need to worry about any amusing side effects.”

“You invented a dishwasher?” Gil asked Agatha with a smirk. It wasn’t that Sparks couldn’t invent domestic appliances. It was just that they preferred inventions that would crush their enemies and conquer all Europa. Not that a teapot could not be a weapon of mass destruction in the hands of the Heterodynes, but as a rule a dishwasher doesn’t show anyone anything.

“Me?!” exclaimed Agatha. “No, I didn’t make it!” She paused uncertainly, “er… did I?”

“No Ma’am, this is not a Spark creation. This is a little something we have arranged for ourselves. It works very well.” She finished collecting the dirty plates and hurried them away before the Sparks could start proposing plans for improvements. Fortunately they were distracted by another servant distributing the crockery for the curried snail course. Gil picked up the clean plate and examined it critically.

“Whatever it is they’ve arranged, it certainly works very well. Look at the lustre on this plate. It’s almost as though it’s covered with a thin glaze. I must find out what they have down there and get one for the Castle.” There was a slight vibration in his chair and the sound of disgruntled machinery beneath his feet. “I mean for my Castle of course, for Castle Wulfenbach,” he added hurriedly. When you are in Mechanicsburg, there is only one entity that can be referred to as ‘The Castle’ and it makes sure you remember that.

Meanwhile, the waitress had wheeled the enormous trolley piled with dirty crockery down to the scullery. Even before she got through the door she could hear the dishwasher hard at work. Schlup, schlup, SCHLLURP!! Schlop! Schlop!

“Hey, Kathy! More plates for you!” she called to the dishwasher.

“Hey great, schlop, schlop, schlop, put them by the rest, shlup, SCHLUURP! Won’t be a moment,” replied Fraulein Kathryn Grrsn. The hyena construct’s stumpy little tail wagged even faster as her enormous tongue licked the leftover food from the latest dirty plate.

“Schlup, schlup, SCHLLURP!! Schlop! Schlop!”

She finished the plate, now lustrous and gleaming with a coating of fresh hyena slobber, and placed in on the rack to dry with the rest. Then she picked up the next dirty plate from the rapidly diminishing pile.

“Oh yum, schlop, schlop, shlup, schlurp.”

“Sure you don’t need a hand with all this?” asked the waitress. The hyena turned towards her with a furious face, her teeth bared.

“No! This is my food! My food! Mine! Mine!! RAWGH!!”

“OK, I was only asking. I thought you might need… OK, OK, here it is, it’s all yours.” She left the trolley and began backing slowly out of the room. Fraulein Grrsn finished the plate she was licking clean, put it on the rack and reached for the next one.

“Schlop, schlurp, schlop, you don’t ever, schlop, schlup, try and take food away, schlup, schlop from a hyena, or else, schlop, schlop.. Ack! Yuck! Ptui!”

“Er… problem?” asked the waitress as Fraulein Grrsn gagged and spat.

“ERGH!! Ptah!! Sorry, broccoli.”

\---------------*

The speeches at the end of the meal are best forgotten. Moloch addressed his speech to his highly polished boots so no-one ever did hear a word he said. Dr Vapnoople, as father of the bride, gave a speech that was acclaimed by connoisseurs as a masterpiece of advanced ranting, but it was so incoherent no-one ever worked out what he was saying either. Florence did at least give a short and intelligible speech, in which she thanked everyone, and especially Lady Heterodyne and Moloch, for accepting her into the pack and giving her a place in the world where she belonged. We all squirmed in embarrassment at the sincerity. 

\--------------------*

Once the speeches were over, the room was cleared for the dancing. The first dance was of course, reserved for the happy couple and they made a tolerable attempt to progress around the floor. Even if their performance would not have delighted Craig Revel-Horwood, at least they managed to get to the end of the gavotte without falling over or treading on each other’s feet. After that we were provided with a real delight. Tarvek had brought the newly restored Tinka, the Muse of Dance, to entertain the guests. She performed the most amazing and intricate fast dance patterns to a spirited rendition of ‘[The Harmonious Blacksmith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnhr3MRo5z0)’ by Contasia the Muse of Music, who played the spinet as though she really meant it, getting faster and faster as the piece progressed; by the time she finished, the keyboard was smoking. Everyone was enraptured by the skill of the dancer and by association the skill of the Spark who had repaired her, so I think I was the only one that noticed the tears on Lady Heterodyne’s cheeks as she watched Tinka perform. I know Agatha has been criticised by some for the harsh way she treated her minions, especially Florence, while she was obsessed with breaking the Barrier, but sometimes I think that if she gets sentimental over a repaired clank she is too soft-hearted to be a true Heterodyne.

Afterwards the regular musicians took up their instruments again and the dancing (and the drinking) started in earnest. As the evening progressed there were several minor injuries as the guests tried to emulate some of Tinka’s more complicated routines, which are difficult enough when you are sober.

Florence noticed that Fraulien Snaug and Saana Tryggvassen were enjoying the attention of a crowd of Jägers. Both minions were wearing particularly pretty and expensive new dresses. Florence was glad that the Jägers had switched their attention from her and even better, if Snaug and Saana were now the toast of the Monster Regiment, they were less likely to be her rivals for Moloch’s affections. However, she had noticed that recently the two girls always seemed to have a lingering smell of EP90 gear lubricant about them, although as far as she knew they weren’t working on anything particularly dirty.

\-----------------------*

With that last formality out of the way, the bride and groom took their leave for their honeymoon and we waved away their departing dirigible, which trailed an amusing array of banners and strings of metal cans. Given the other minions’ penchant for practical jokes the destination was a closely guarded secret, but we learned afterwards that Moloch and Florence spent a very romantic fortnight at the industrial Metropolis of Didcot in Britain, visiting (on those occasions when they actually left their hotel room) the great railway museum that Queen Albia has built there.

\-------------------*

All in all, the celebrations in the town went off reasonably well without things getting too rowdy as the night wore on. Those Jägers not invited to the wedding feast had been asked to conduct all the serious carousing in Mamma Gkika’s or the Jägerhall in order to keep collateral damage down to a minimum. The worst incident occurred on Kadath Street when an itinerant rap artist had to be rescued from a pack of infuriated Jägers.

“Hokay sveethot,” one of Jägers shouted as the shaken man was escorted away from the angry monstrous mob for his own safety, “zo hyu kent sing. Und hyu kent play an instrument. Zo hyu dem vell gon keep to de beat! Oddervise ve gon bury hyu up to hyur knees! Head down!”

\---------------*

Later that night, much, much later, the sound of drunken singing echoed through the cloisters of Castle Heterodyne.

“Heavy the sorrow that bows the head  
when love is alive and hope is dead.

When lo-o-oooo-ve is aliiiive and hoo-oo-oo–oo-ope is deeeaaaad!”

Tarvek and Violetta had successfully executed Violetta’s part of the Plan and were leaning on each other somewhat as they staggered back to their rooms, as frankly neither was entirely sober, not even by naval standards. It was difficult to know exactly who was holding up who as their song came to an end amid the soft pitter-patter of the falling bats stunned by that last high note.

“Wha… wha was in that drink…” slurred Violetta.

“Whish one,” asked Tarvek.

“Any of ‘em.”

“Dunno, but I schould ‘ave known better when I saw Theo behin’ the bar. An’ when I saw Wuffen… Wullenb… Gil, whatever, schmirkin’...” He made an expressive gesture to illustrate his point, stumbled and staggered into Violetta, who grabbed him to stop him falling and pushed him away. He lurched into her again deliberately with a little inebriated snigger. She leaned into him and was aware of the toned muscles rippling beneath his foppish clothing; the exciting deep undertones of his voice.

“Careful there your majeschty,” she said with a slurred laugh and put her arms around his waist. Tarvek felt her soft inviting body next to his and pulled her tighter. They both giggled and looked into each other’s’ eyes. Suddenly each realised how attractive, how damned sexy the other was. Violetta clung to Tarvek as she sank into his strong, comforting, manly arms. Tarvek took Violetta’s head in his hand, tilting it up towards his own.

“Oh, Tarvek!” breathed Violetta.

“Oh, Violetta!” responded Tarvek. As he leaned down to kiss her quivering expectant lips, two sinister figures stepped out of the shadows and clubbed the pair of them unconscious with practised, synchronised precision. Normally Tarvek and Violetta would not have been taken by surprise so easily, but they were both completely distracted by each other at the time; also of course, they were both completely pissed out of their brains. Their assailants stood over their unconscious forms in triumph.

“Aw,” complained Castle Heterodyne, “why did you have to go and do that? Things were starting to get interesting.”

“Trust me,” replied Axel Higgs, “it was the kindest thing to do.”

“Are you sure?” asked Zeetha. “I mean, it could have been the start of a whole new phase in their relationship.”

“Not to mention, the expressions on their faces in the morning when they wake up together in bed with near-terminal hangovers and no clothes on will be absolutely hilarious,” added the Castle. “I can make a recording and put in on postcards for sale in every tourist shop in Mechanicsburg. And think of the fun we could have had at their expense for years and years and years. The embarrassment factor for the pair of them would have been off the scale.”

“Right, I see your point,” said Zeetha.

“But they’d make _such_ a perfect married couple,” protested the Castle. “They argue all the time and they hate each other's guts.”

“No!” said Higgs. “These two definitely are _not_ going to get married, so let’s find a wheelbarrow and put them to bed. Separate beds,” he added quickly, when he saw the hopeful expression on Zeetha’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> _Dr Benjamin Rat M.B., B.S., D.R.A.N.Z.C.O.G, F.R.A.C.O.G and Nettlefrisk Tea – from[Doc Rat by Jenner](http://www.docrat.com.au/). Doctor Rat (complete with Oz coffee mug) makes a guest appearance in Girl Genius [here](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20110228)._   
>  _Fraulein Kathryn Grrsn from[Carry On](http://www.hirezfox.com/km/co/index.html) by Katherine Garrison_


End file.
